


Missing

by brbsoulnomming, coffee_or_death



Series: Post-It Notes From the Trailer [10]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brbsoulnomming/pseuds/brbsoulnomming, https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_or_death/pseuds/coffee_or_death
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a big fight - just because it's a fight via post it notes doesn't mean it isn't big - Monroe goes missing.</p>
<p>But Nick won't let anything stop him from finding him. Even well meaning friends and dodgy spell work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Post-It Notes From Nick

__

When Nick gets to the trailer after work, there’s no reply from Monroe, but there’s six empty beer bottles in the recycling, and none of them have been replaced.

`Right, you’re not home. So I guess you don’t want to talk about it. `

-one hour later- 

`I’m not going to bring it up, okay? It’s confined to post its. `

-an hour later- 

`Look, Monroe, I’ll drop it. I promise. `

-two hours later- 

`I’m sorry. If you stop by here first, just come home, okay? `

-before work- 

`Okay, Monroe, I’m worried now. You’ve never not been there at night before and I don’t – just call me, okay, or text me back. `

-lunch break- 

`Still haven’t heard from you. I know there’s something wrong, now, but on the off chance that you get this, just please call me, before I file a missing person’s report. `

-after work- 

`I don’t care that it hasn’t been that long. They don’t know you like I do, and I know something’s wrong. `

-late night- 

`I filed one anyway. Hank and Wu trust my judgment in this, at least. We’re going to find you. `

-early morning- 

`Found your car. I guess you were going to replace those beers. I’ll save them for you. `

\--- 

`God damn it. Whoever the fuck did this knows you’re dating me. Or at least was prepared for the cops. There’s nothing, no fingerprints, no DNA, no footprints, nothing. `

\--- 

`It doesn’t matter. I’ll find you. I’ll always find you. `

\--- 

`Rosalee says they wore wolfsbane. Her sense of smell isn’t as good as yours, but it doesn’t work on her, so she could pick that up. Couldn’t tell me anything else, but now I know it’s Grimm related. `

\--- 

`I’m sorry. `

\--- 

`As soon as you’re back, we’ll have another weekend like we did a little bit ago. We’ll retest all of the furniture. `

\--- 

`Apparently wolfsbane confuses the search dogs, too. Damn it. `

\--- 

`Holly’s mad at us for not telling her about wolfsbane. She says she’s not talking to you again until you come back and apologize. `

\--- 

`Bud and some of the others are helping. I’ve got them doing a grid search. If you’re out in the woods, we’ll find you. `

\--- 

`This is taking too long. I can’t- `

\--- 

`It’ll be a week this time, not just a weekend. Anything you want. `

\--- 

`Hanson and Gracie are mobilizing some of the other kids. No one’s seen anything yet, but not much escapes their eyes. `

\--- 

`I don’t know why I’m still writing these. Maybe I like believing that the next time I come back, there’ll be an answer. `

_All of the notes from here on out are splotched with coffee, ink, and once something that may or may not be tears._

` Roddy’s got his rats on the hunt. Never thought that’d be something I said. `

\--- 

`I’m sorry. I don’t care how long it takes, how long you need to work on it, I’ll wait. Okay? Just come back, just please come home. `

\--- 

`I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t do this without you. `

\--- 

`I think I might have something. I think –`

\--- 

`Don’t be mad at me. `

\--- 

`They keep telling me to sleep. `

\--- 

`No, actually, you can be mad at me, just as long as you’re here. `

\--- 

`They all need to shut up, I’m fine. `

\--- 

`I can’t sleep without you anymore, anyway. `

\--- 

`I hate Hank and Wu. Fine. I don’t need to be at the station. It’s Grimm stuff, anyway, I can do more good here. `

\--- 

`-indecipherable scribbles, with drops of spilled tea-`

`I hate Rosalee and Bud, too. We’re no longer associating with them. And don’t ever drink tea from Bud if he says Rosalee made it. `

\--- 

`I retract my previous statement. Rosalee and Bud are amazing people. If this works, I’ll see you soon. If not-`

\--- 

`I love you. `


	2. Monroe's Post-Its

I got kidnapped. Again. You have to be kidding me.

This would happen when I make a beer run. Why did we have to get the kidnappers that don't respect the sanctity of getting a beer after a lovers spat? 

I'll just hold tight. Wait here for you to come save me. Damn, I am the princess. 

\--- 

How does everyone know we're dating? It's not like I took out an ad in the paper once we got together. Not that I didn't think about it. I knew how lucky I was. Am. But how does everyone know? 

I feel like I've gone back to grade school except it's changed from a kick me sign to kidnap me sign. You didn't stick one on my back did you? 

\--- 

So looks like I'm not going to get the chance to say I'm sorry for being such an ass. At least today. 

\--- 

At least I have time to come up with a good apology post it. 

\--- 

Nick, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I guess I just figured I’d screw this up somehow. Find a way to drive you off. And If I wasn't at least partially prepared for that and I did drive you off I'd be completely destroyed. Worse than anything that's happened before. I just couldn't deal with that. I didn't want to hurt you. I never do. I told you I'm no good with relationships, but I'm trying. 

\--- 

Have you noticed I'm missing yet? 

_[The following post it notes all have at least some blood smears on them.]_

You have to have noticed I'm gone by now. I wouldn't miss getting to sleep next to you no matter what stupid shit either of us said. 

\--- 

Hey Nick, today I found another reason to hate cats. Do me a favor man, beat the crap out of him when you find me. I'll make sure to leave this one somewhere easy for you to see when you bust down the door. 

\--- 

Remember how you were mad that I didn't trust you? You were really wrong about that. I don't care what shit they say. I know you're coming for me. I trust you not to leave me here. 

\--- 

They're idiots. They don't know you like I do. I know you love me. 

\--- 

Just so you know, I haven't told them anything about you. I'd never turn my back on you. You know that right? 

\--- 

I know you're still coming for me dude, but I really wish you'd hurry. 

\--- 

Ok, you have to know I'm gone at this point right? It's just taking you awhile to find me. Because they've got me held up in some crazy location that's hard to find. 

\--- 

I'm sorry I'm such an ass. 

\--- 

This didn't happen to the Midnighter and Apollo did it? Because if it did and you didn't warn me I'm going to be pissed. 

\--- 

I should have known this was going to happen. I went from the sidekick to the love interest. Both are just doomed to get kidnapped. At least you won't ever have to choose between the two. You just have me. 

\--- 

I wasn't kidding about what I said before, I can't do better than you. There isn't anyone better than you. At least not for me. And I wouldn't change anything. Well other than the getting tortured part. That part I'd change a lot of. Probably switch it to us going on some wine tour in California, and spending a week getting hammered on a beach. A private beach so I wouldn’t have to put up with idiots drooling over you. And for other reasons. 

\--- 

I want it to go on the record that I do trust you. And all the stupid shit I wrote before hand was just me being an idiot and not thinking right. You wouldn't leave me. I still say you deserve better than me. When I get out of this I'll do what it takes to be better for you. Starting with watching who’s behind me in dark parking lots. 

_[The last few are cover in more blood than normal, and Monroe's normally neat script is clearly written with a shaking hand.]_

Look, in case you can't find me. Well then this wouldn't matter since you wouldn't be able to read that. In case you can't find me in time, I just wanted to make sure you know that it isn't your fault. If there was a way to find me in time you would have done it. I know you've done everything you could. Don't be an idiot. I love you. And even with how this ends having you was worth it. 

\--- 

Don't get pissed at me later for writing a good bye on these. It seemed fitting considering it's how we started. 

\--- 

If anyone finds these, well anyone that isn't the bastards that did this, send them to Detective Nick Burkhardt from the Portland Police Department.


	3. Absence of Post-Its

The second Nick tries the tracking spell, he knows it’s worked. For a moment, it – everything hurts, even things Nick hadn’t known could hurt. He’d never thought he could _taste_ pain before, and he has the sneaking suspicion that it’s because he didn’t exactly use the spell as he was supposed to. 

But then it doesn’t matter anymore, because Nick _knows were Monroe is_. Not really, not exactly, he doesn’t have an address or anything like that, but he still knows. He has something he can follow. And then he’s hauling out his duffel bag, filling it with anything and everything – he doesn’t know what he’s going up against, the best Rosalee had been able to do was tell him that there were at least four of them, and all were wearing Wolfsbane. 

He loads up on things he can have easy access to as well – his handgun and his backup at his hip and shoulder, a couple of those daggers he’s been practicing with on hip, arm, and leg, the crossbow he’s gotten even better at slung over his back. And he puts on his own Wolfsbane – he doesn’t know if any of them are Blutbaden, but better safe than sorry.

It’s barely any time at all before he’s in the car, following a trail he doesn’t really understand, but at the moment he doesn’t care, because he knows it will lead him to Monroe. 

The trail takes him southeast, through Gresham and into Mount Hood, technically out of his jurisdiction, but again, he doesn’t care. 

When he finds the place, though, what looks like a log cabin but isn’t – Nick’s seen too many of them not to recognize fake logs when he sees them, and his guess would be concrete – he does take the time to stop, to scope it out, to call Hank. 

He lies, of course, because he can’t tell Hank how he really found this. He says Hanson and Gracie had a tip, that one of the kids saw someone fitting Monroe’s description in the back of a car, that he ran the car’s license plate and found the address. He knows one day Hank will call him on it, one day, probably by accident, Hank will find out that he hadn’t run anything, but today isn’t that day. 

Today, Hank just says, “Nick, wait for back up.” 

Nick doesn’t say anything. 

“Nick,” Hank says, forcefully, but he knows Nick too well. He knows that Nick is going to charge in there, with not much more of a plan than to take out the bad guys and get Monroe out of there. Because that’s who Nick is, Nick has always been that way, has always been more than willing to sacrifice himself for the people he loves, to walk in there and hope for the best, because he knows he doesn’t have the time to do anything else. 

Nick will play it as safe as he can, will be as smart as he can, but there’s no choice between waiting and going in there on his own. 

If he waits, Monroe might be dead. 

“I slept,” Nick tells Hank, kind of ridiculously, though there is a point to it. He’s had some sleep, a good sleep, he’s not going into this completely out of his depth. 

That doesn’t excuse what Rosalee and Bud did, he’s still mad at them. Later, after Monroe’s safe and the tight panic and desperation in Nick’s chest have eased, he’ll feel different. He’ll be proud of Bud for standing his ground, for looking up at Nick and only shaking a little bit when Nick loomed over him, angry and shouting. He’ll be grateful to Rosalee, who snatched the thermos from his hand and snapped at him that if he wasn’t going to take care of himself, he should be glad he had people who would do it for him. 

But that’s later. Now there’s Hank on the other end of the phone, saying just give them ten minutes, Nick, and Nick says ten minutes might be more than Monroe has. 

He hangs up. Hank knows where he is, and there’s back up coming, Nick just needs to get in there and keep Monroe alive as long as possible. 

He tells himself it’s not any different from the Lowen Games, and they made it through that fine. 

But it is different. It’s been four days, not a few hours. Nick has no idea what he’s going into, where last time, he’d had a last a vague clue. 

And this time he knows exactly what he has to lose. This time it’s not just a confusing sense of pain and terror, not just the realization that Nick _cannot lose_ Monroe, even if he didn’t know why, he just _couldn’t_ , and he’d do anything to make that not happen. 

Now he knows why. 

There’s lights on in the cabin. The shades are pulled, but Nick can still see shadows. He counts two in the front room, one in the back. He waits, watches them moving around, but that’s it. 

At least one unaccounted for, then. But he can see three. That’s not bad. 

It’ll have to be good enough, because Nick’s not waiting anymore. 

He wants to charge in, guns blazing, but – he’s too worried about where that fourth one might be. If they might be with Monroe, ready to kill him at the first sign of trouble. Quick and quiet, then, and he pulls the crossbow off his shoulder, loads both bolts. The crossbow’s quieter than his gun, and if he can take both of the ones in the first room out of commission before they can alert their friends, that’s his best shot. 

Right. Nick moves quickly towards the cabin, keeping an eye and an ear out for any sign that he might have been spotted, but he makes it to the door with no one the wiser. A deep breath, trying to control his emotions, calm the anger and fear and panic, dredge up those Grimm instincts he still doesn’t really know how he accesses. 

But maybe calm isn’t the way to go, because as soon as he kicks in the front door, sees the two Wesen standing there – a Schakal and a Fuchsbau – a bottle of beer in their hands like they’re on fucking _vacation_ , snacks and cards on the table, Nick snaps. 

Anger clouds his vision, and he’s got two bolts buried in the Schakal before he even realizes he’s shot the crossbow, and the Fuchsbau tackled to the ground barely two seconds after that realization. He has his knee grinding into the Fuchsbau’s back, the Wesen's face pressed against the floor, and his hand wrapped around the back of his neck, squeezing. 

“Speak louder than a whisper and I will take your head off without even bothering with the cutting,” Nick says, right by the Fuchsbau’s ear, voice low and dangerous. 

He knows there’s absolutely no way he can do that, but he doubts the Fuchsbau knows that. And right now, Nick’s angry enough to _try_. 

“Where is he.” 

The Fuchsbau doesn’t answer. 

Nick presses his knee harder into his back, tightens his hand around his neck. 

“You can tell me and live, or I can kill you and find him myself.” 

He can, Nick realizes. There’s still a trail, if he concentrates on it, leading into the next room, Nick can still tell where Monroe is. 

Buoyed by that knowledge, Nick shifts, moving to grab another hellebore bolt, fingers digging even more into the skin of the Fuchsbau’s neck in the process. 

“Don’t!” the Fuchsbau says, quiet enough that Nick can barely hear him. “He’s downstairs. The entrance is in the next room.” 

“Who’s with him?” Nick asks. 

“No one,” the Fuchsbau replies.

Nick leans forward, squeezing again. 

“No one!” the Fuschbau says again, voice pitched high in terror. “Kendra’s in the next room. Eric’s out for supplies.” 

Nick doesn’t believe him, not really. But he knows he’s unlikely to get anymore out of him, so he reaches back again, grabs two hellebore bolts, and jams them into the side of the Fuchsbau’s neck. He slams his palm over the Fuchsbau’s mouth, just in case he felt anything like screaming, and makes sure to keep his fingers well away from any potential snapping teeth. 

But the hellebore works quickly, especially when shoved into the veins of the neck, and the Fuchsbau’s out before long. Nick stands, loads the crossbow again, and moves to pick up the duffel bag from where he’d dropped it. 

There’s a good chance the Wesen in the next room heard him, that he no longer has the element of surprise. He’ll have to go with advantage in weaponry, then, and he pulls the kanabo out of the duffel bag, then drops the bag near the door to the next room before kicking it open.

Sure enough, the Wesen was waiting for him, and she’s on top of him nearly as soon as the door’s open. There’s no room to maneuver the cross bow or the kanabo, but he still gets them up between them, using them as a shield as she claws at him. 

He brings his knees up as he falls onto his back, kicking her off of him and rolling over, bringing up the crossbow as he does and firing. But she’s quick, and she’s already moving, backing off and away from him, and he gets his first good look at her – another Schakal. 

“Hi, Kendra,” he says, because he suspects it will throw her off, that he knows her name. 

It does, and her eyes widen briefly in something like fear, but Nick’s gaze is drawn more to the blood on her hands, the specks of it on her clothes. 

He doesn’t know if it’s his, because he honestly has no idea if she’d managed to claw him or not, if the lack of pain he feels is only because of adrenaline and anger, but it doesn’t matter. All he sees is blood on one of the people who’d taken Monroe, and his mind is only on one thing. 

“Whatever you did to him, it’ll be worse for you.” 

Her eyes narrow at him. “You weren’t supposed to come.” 

He smiles, cold and humorless. “You should have known who you were going up against.”

She snarls, and lunges at him, but as fast as she is, he still has time to swing the kanabo at her, clip her hard in the shoulder. She goes down, but she’s not out, and now she’s close enough to his legs to claw at them, grab them and try to pull them out from under him. 

_That_ , he feels, pain flaring as her claws sink into his skin, and he doesn’t fight it for fear of getting his flesh torn out, lets her pulls his legs towards her, lets himself fall. 

But he tries to control it, falling smart, and when he hits the ground, he rolls slightly, swinging the kanabo at her and hitting her again. This time she goes out, collapsing to the floor, and he spends only a moment making sure she’s not going to get up again before he lunges for the door. 

It’s locked, but a quick search of Kendra’s pockets produces a key, and Nick uses that instead of trying to kick it down. He can barely feel the pain in his legs anymore, but he’s pretty sure that’s not indicative of their actual functioning, and he isn’t sure he could manage any door kicking right now. 

He goes for the duffel bag if only because he doesn’t want to leave it where the other three might be able to get to it, if they wake up, loads the crossbow again, and slings it back over his back to free up a hand. 

And then he’s heading down the stairs, into what looks like a basement. There’s only one light, hanging from the ceiling, and there’s no windows. But it’s light enough to just barely make out that there’s a short hall, at the end of which is another door, that looks to be made of solid concrete. 

Whatever the Fuchsbau said, Nick’s still on guard – and that turns out to be a good thing, because a quiet hiss is the only warning he gets before a Klaustreich jumps out of the shadows, lunging for him. 

Nick drops the duffel bag to swing the kanabo, but the Klaustreich’s too quick for that, and he’s on the ground before he can complete the motion. Again, Nick tries to use it as a shield, but the Klaustreich realizes what he’s doing and changes tactics, clawing at his hands. Nick releases his hold on the kanabo immediately, shoving it aside and sending it flying away from them so neither of them can reach it.

The Klaustreich leans in, fangs bared as if to bite him, and Nick reacts instinctively, slamming his knee up into the Klaustreich’s groin. The biting motion turns into a howl, and Nick uses his distraction to shove him off, rolling to get up. 

But the Klaustreich snaps back quickly, and the next thing Nick knows he’s being clawed at, chest suddenly burning with pain. Nick falls back, and the Klaustreich moves in again, but Nick head butts him, and then snaps his leg up in a front kick, planting his foot against the Klaustreich’s chest and kicking him back. 

It doesn’t take long at all for the Klaustriech to recover, but by then Nick’s already got two of his knives, and he throws the first one, hitting him in the left shoulder. When that doesn’t stop him, Nick throws the next one, landing it in the Klaustreich’s throat. 

That halts his progress, and the Klaustreich’s hands immediately fly to the knife, pulling it out.

Nick doesn’t even try to tell him not to. 

Instead he moves on towards the door at the other end of the hall, as the Klaustreich falls to his knees and makes desperate, horrible gurgling sounds that Nick barely hears. He turns back when, once again, the door is locked, but the Klaustreich has the key, and Nick doesn’t even notice that by now, he’s pretty heavily splotched with blood. He does grab both of his knives, pulling the other one out of the Klaustreich’s shoulder, and puts them back as he stands.

Back to the door, where he readies his crossbow, in case there’s more to face on the other side, and then he unlocks it and surges in.

\---

Maybe they're getting bored with torture, or maybe they've done enough nerve damage that he can't feel it, but that last round hadn't packed the full punch of the first few sessions with his favorite Klaustreich. Or there's the fun thought that maybe over the last however many days, he's built up some kind of extreme pain tolerance. (has it been days? It's hard to tell without sun light.) More than likely it's because everything hurts too much to hurt any more than it already is.

Monroe curls himself into a ball. If he can't bandage his wounds then he can at least try and cling to some of his body heat before the concrete floor whisks it away. With his arms wrapped as tightly as he can manage around himself Monroe has a chance at imagining that Nick's curled up behind him protecting his back from any more blows, and this is over. It gets easier to do as he feels himself slip in and out of consciousness.

He knows Nick is still coming for him. That Nick will keep looking for him. Even after Monroe was a dick to him on a fucking post it note. But he also knows that he has got to be hidden away really well or else Nick would have found him before the first beating had even started.

At the first bit of noise from a scuffle Monroe doesn't think anything of it. They better not be fighting over who gets the last beer. Again. Priorities dude, come on. At least he won't have to listen for much longer. He can feel the scales get tipped toward unconsciousness instead of consciousness and he wonders why he's even been fighting it.

The sounds of the scuffle are getting louder. Which is just weird. Usually things start getting quieter when he begins to pass out. He liked that part. It means he doesn't have to listen to them anymore. The smelling Nick part is familiar though. He always feels like he can sense Nick somehow when his brain goes under.

The door being tossed open is new. Normally they don't have such a flare for the dramatic. One of them must be really pissed about not getting that final beer. Monroe remains still. He remembers in the beginning when he used to try block their attacks or protect his back from them, but he's learned very well that he can't stop the inevitable. Besides how much fun can it be to attack someone who isn't fighting back? At least he can take that pleasure away from them. 

How can he smell Nick this vividly. He doesn't have that good of an imagination. He lifts his head slightly to see which one it is. He really hopes it's not the Klaustreich again so soon. Nick wasn't kidding when he wrote they were sadistic. He hates cats. But that's definitely not the cat. In the door way is Nick, his Nick. He feels like sobbing, or trying to crawl over to him, or something. He wants to say he's sorry for the fight. To tell him he loves him. Or at least tell him none of this is his fault because he knows the idiot probably thinks it is, but his voice isn't working, he can barely move, and he knows he can't stay awake any longer, especially not now that Nick is there and he's safe, and he's going back to their home. 

He does what he can though.

He digs his hand into his pocket and pulls out the jumbled clump that is the notes he's managed to write while being trapped, and holds them in a loose fist, hoping Nick will see them and understand, since Monroe won't be able to explain anything before he passes out. And the ones that held him here thought Monroe writing notes to Nick was something to laugh at. He thinks to himself 'shows them' before passing out.

\---

Nick's geared up for a fight when he bursts into the room, crossbow out and ready to shoot at the first thing that moves, because he's tired of getting ambushed while kicking in doors. 

But he lowers it immediately when he sees Monroe, and drops it entirely when he sees that Monroe is alone. Anger surges through him again, fierce and hot, turning his eyes cold and dangerous as he looks over Monroe, sees the bruises and blood and the way he can barely even move. 

And then Monroe collapses completely, and it turns to panic - before he can start thinking about how much he's going to make them pay, which might be a good thing. Nick is at Monroe's side in a second, fighting down fear that he was _too late_ , that he got there just in time to-

Monroe's breathing. Nick lets out a shaky breath of his own, and reaches out to gently run his hand through Monroe's hair, to press a kiss against Monroe's forehead. "It's okay," he says, even though Monroe can't hear him. "Help's coming." 

He wants to take Monroe out of there, to wait for back up outside, but he's too afraid of causing Monroe more damage by moving him. Instead he pulls out his cell phone, to call Hank again - and of course, has no reception down there. Nick bites his lower lip, and then gives Monroe another kiss. "I'll be right back." 

Nick jumps up, grabbing his duffel bag on the way out, stuffing his weapons in it as he's going. He stashes it in the back of his car as he calls Hank, updating him and making sure there's an ambulance on the way. He's moving back into the cabin before he's even done with the conversation, stopping only to make sure all four Wesen are still out, and hangs up the phone when it cuts out. 

Then he crouches by Monroe's side, absently gathering up the pieces of paper that Monroe had tried to hold out to him and tucking them in his pocket. He doesn't know what they are, but they're obviously important to Monroe, which means they're important to him. 

But later. Now he just has to make sure Monroe makes it to the hospital.


End file.
